Aren’t we all just tourists.
A bank holiday that originally held no plans for us ended up triggering an impromptu trip to Oxford. A city of delights. Of course, it has its less than savoury spots, but that is an inevitability of human habitation. We only live half an hour away from this historic city, filled with its sumptuous architecture and gawping tourists.
I always feel a warm sensation when I am in a place that attracts lots of tourists but it is relatively local to me. Frankly, I feel like it’s “my” place and they’re all just visiting. A similar feeling arises if I visit Windsor. “Yes, I grew up around here,” I feel like saying. “Well, of course I know the queen,” I would go on.
Peculiar little creatures, our brains.
I am just as much a tourist as anybody else, though. Aren’t we all just tourists gawping at this existence trying to fathom out its depths, never quite feeling at home?
